New Mother
by burnout22
Summary: Casey and her little brother Oliver Condell are left alone when their parents go on a business trip. Soon after Casey and Oliver are kidnapped and taken to Never land. When the escape and are taken to Peter so Casey can be the new mother she is faced with a classic problem: she doesn't want want to be a mother quite yet.


Chapter 1: Queen of the Rock

"Aha! Got you at last Casey," Arianna gloated, doing her happy dance. "Now I'm Queen of the rock!"

Oh. Well we'll see about that. I swam closer and put my evil plan into action. Quickly I pulled her down off the rock by her ankle and scampered up the rock.

"What were you saying about getting me, Arianna?" I asked. I arrogantly stood on the rock with my hands on my hips.

"Just that I had," she informed me as she pulled me back off.

I walked up my sidewalk, whistling, with my swim bag under my arm. I took out my house key out of my pocket and unlocked the door. Almost as soon as I walked in I was ambushed with a tackle from my little brother, Oliver.

"'Sup sis, how's it going?" he greeted, whilst making a chair out of my stomach. I simultaneously shut the door with my foot and shoved him off me.

"Just fine," I replied nonchalantly. "How's it going Oliver? Didn't answer the phone did ye?" He's not allowed to answer the phone when he's home alone.

He shakes his head 'no'. My parents were on a business trip, which was quite normal really. They used to get a sitter, but ever since I had turned fifteen they had let me watch Oliver.

"Cool, go get ready for bed," I said with mock seriousness. Oliver gave a little salute then ran up the stairs to his room. A minute or two later I heard loud drawers opening. The dude needs to not slam them so hard.

I walked towards the answering machine and the blinking light. (For those of you who don't know what this means on ye olde answering machine, a blinking light means there a missed calls.) I pressed a button and the messages replayed.

One from my parents asking how we were doing, one from Dylan Cooper. There was one from my friend Chelsea asking to borrow a top from me, and another one from Dylan Cooper. Lastly there was one from school congratulating me for getting to the summer, followed by the very last message which was from Dylan freakin' Cooper.

Dylan Cooper was an annoying playboy who kept asking me out. He was trouble I'd seen it in Chelsea's sorrow after he'd dumped her. Then I'd seen it in Arianna's stoic hatred when he'd done the same to her. Every relationship he'd had screamed 'player' and 'trouble'. That was all I needed to convince me to stay away.

I sensed movement with my peripheral vision. I stepped out of the way to avoid being tackled by Oliver a second time.

"Oh-ho-ho… so close Oliver," I teased before I ran up the stairs and locked the door to my room.

I took my brush out and turned towards my mirror. My caramel coloured hair was still wet from the lake, and adrenaline was still going through me, making my green eyes shine.

I contemplated putting my hair in a ponytail but decided against it. I'd rather deal with regular bed head then ponytail bed head.

I moved to my drawer to see if I had any clean nightclothes left. I didn't so my option was a nightgown. I shunned said option of accursed nightgown and walked to my closet. I walked away satisfied with an oversized band T-shirt. Man, I really need to do some laundry.

I opened the door and looked down both sides of the hallway to check for my brother. No way I was letting Oliver ambush me again.

The coast was clear and I speed-walked to the bathroom across the hall. Ten minutes later I was changed and Oliver still wasn't in the hall. Only I was surprised when I opened my door.

Sitting on my window seat was Oliver. He was holding up a book.

"Read to me?" he asked. He was only ten so I cut him slack.

"Alright Oliver, I'll read to you. Scoot over," I ordered. He did and I stretched out on the seat cover. Oliver didn't hesitate to sit on my lap.

It felt stuffy in the room so I unlatched the window. We were three stories up, and the door was locked. What could happen?

So I decided to let in the chilly night air that mother England is known for.

Yeah, I'm British. A wonderful and skillful storyteller would have found a better, more subtle way to slip this in. However, I am none of those things so… we live in London, in a house we bought from a Ms. Winthrop.

I looked at the title of the book.

"Really?" I asked. Oliver nodded. "Haven't read this in a while," I muttered. We hadn't, the book was _Peter Pan_. I had loved the story, but at the time Oliver was seven, and his little boy mind found it had not enough action and too much old English.

He looked up at me and shrugged. I opened the book and turned to the first page.

"All children, except one, grow up …"

I woke up later that night on the windowsill with Oliver in my arms and _Peter Pan_ in my hands.

I looked around the dark room and heard a knocking. I looked at the window to see that it was just a branch from an abnormally tall tree that was terrorizing me. I reached up and locked the window with the latch.

Five seconds after I closed my eyes I realized some things I should have realized immediately. One: I never turned the lights off. Two: I never closed the window.

Then I felt a cloth pressed to my mouth, and the world was dead to me.


End file.
